Down at the Tavern'
by Auua Ytjoml
Summary: Just how much water does this half baked excuse really hold? Why? And what could possibly go right when Arthur finds out what 'at the tavern' really means? (No Slash!)
1. Gwaine-

**A/N: To new readers - this chapter is short, but sets up the tone for both halves of this story; both the serious side and the funny side. **

**To those who have already read this chapter - please read it again! I've made some subtle but important changes to it that WILL have implications further on.**

**Enjoy!**

**~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`!**

If Gwaine were ever to try and count the number of times Arthur has told him to "go get Merlin's arse out of the tavern this instant!" the task would require all his fingers and toes and then some.

Truly, Arthur's request befuddles him. Why, out of all knights of the round table, would anyone, ever consider _Gwaine_ the best person to fetch someone from a _tavern_? And what he definitely does not understand is how Arthur can _still_ be under the impression that Merlin is at the tavern in the first place. Certainly _Gwaine_ spends a considerable portion of his free time there, but he's only ever seen his friend in the vicinity of the The Rising Sun a handful of times unless in the company of the knights or Arthur himself. Furthermore Gwaine has never managed to bring Merlin back from the tavern at Arthur's request. His friend hasn't been there.

Despite all this Arthur seems convinced that Merlin spends much of his time at the local establishment. Knowing Merlin, this is probably a purposefully propagated cover for something, there's probably a good reason for this façade. Gwaine trusts his first and best friend. Though... he'd love it if he could be in on the joke. Perhaps if he can discover Merlin's secret on his own?

Besides, why pass up the continuation of King sanctioned trips to the best ale in Camelot?


	2. The one time he actually is-

A/N: 2nd installment! From now on each chapter will be a sentence or phrase that ends "down at the tavern". This chapter is the beginning of why Arthur believes that Merlin is always at the tavern.

It had been a long hard week.

First there had been the baby serket infestation in the dungeons. Why anyone – even a mad sorcerer – would want to sneek baby serkets _anywhere_ was beyond him. Why – if such a questionable activity was being pursued at all – they were planted in the dungeons was even further beyond his explanation. Its not like it stopped them from throwing people in the dungeons. Baby serkets were not deadly – just painful and very, very scary. The length of a man's forearm and possessed of a barbed stinger – the barbs would eventually fall off as the serket's poison glands developed – Merlin was none to happy with whomever pulled that prank.

Then Arthur had to go and forget Gwen's birthday. Granted he'd spend the last three days fighting off giant baby scorpions in his own dungeons but while that might excuse the lack of an extravagant gesture on the King's part, in Gwen's eyes forgetting entirely was entirely unforgivable. Merlin was inclined to side with her but had tried to stay out of it entirely lest the friend he didn't side with turned on him as well. This plan had worked horribly. Instead of applauding his diplomacy they united against him (he told Gaius later that he'd planned for that all along) and drove him out to stable mucking and dress shopping. Urg.

To top everything off Gaius had come down with a cold forcing Merlin to take up all of his duties on top of his own.

Everything considered, Merlin is pretty sure he deserves this. Sitting in a quite corner of the Rising Sun Inn and Tavern he leans back and enjoys the friendly bustling ambiance. At some point Gwaine slips in and joins a game of Tarrot across the room. Merlin smiles. If he manages to avoid a fight his friend will most likely be coming home no lighter of pocket than he left - bolstering his ale-coin with coin won at the cards.

For a long while Merlin nurses a single pint, not wishing to get anywhere near intoxicated for fear of the consequences. But it is inevitable - between the warm fire at his back, the cozy chatter a light buzz in his ears, and the late nights and early mornings he'd suffered through all week – that his head begin to bob and eventually rests gently on his chest.

The barmaid smiles and simply moves his cup further away from his sprawled limbs. Her cousin works up at the castle and she has an inkling as to how much this sleep is welcomed. Winding her way across the room she is about to continue on with her duties when the door slams open.

"_Mer-_lin!"

Startled she drops into a low curtsy. "M'lord!"

Brushing her aside her King scans the room. "Where is he!"

"He, M'lord?"

"Merlin of course. My manservant."

With a guilty glance at the peacefully sleeping man in question she curtsies low again.

"In the corner by the fire, M'lord."

Half fearfully, half in amusement she watches as the King stalks across the room. The rest of the tavern now notices his presence and a hush falls across the townsfolk.

Reaching the fireside Arthur gazes sternly down at his friend. Then without a second thought he snatches up the remainders of Merlin's pint and tosses it in the manservant's face.

Merlin comes to with a great yelp and much sputtering.

"Wha-! What 's it?!"

His eyes dart around the room and then land on the stern face of his destiny.

"Oh. You know, I really can explain…" He trails off hopelessly. "Yes Sire?"

"Merlin." Arthur pauses to let those two syllables dripping with ire and commendation to have their full effect. " Did you not confirm that all of the serkets were contained securely pending a way to destroy them?"

"Yes…?"

"Then why Merlin, are there baby serkets swarming – not only the dungeons but the entire lower level of the castle?"

". . ."

"And when all of this is going on where do I find you?"

The King hauls his friend to his feet and begins to drag him toward the door before Merlin finds his own feet and stumbles out after him.

"Well you see Arthur-"

Merlin."

"Shutting up."


	3. Drunk though not- (pt1)

For the life of him Merlin cannot remember why he decided to do this. Not that he cares much. Surely it was a very good reason.

A small ball of light twists into being at his fingertips. Floating off, it is soon joined by an aerial armada of the things. Some drift serenely pulsating with pastel mists while others spin widely about the warlocks head flashing in all colors of the rainbow.

With a happy mumble Merlin sets one of them on fire. It bumps into a wooden beam and hovers there.

Suddenly a heavy knocking bursts through his head. Merlin smiles and shouts 'Come in! '

What actually comes out sounds more like "C'mon."

Briskly a tall presence enters the room and then freezes.

"Merlin?"

It's voice is filled with concern and just a little bit of fear.

"Merlin, are you all right? Have they hurt you?"

Confused Merlin lurches upright. Proudly he shows off his walking skills swaying wildly but managing not to knock anything over. Leaning in close he finally recognizes the man talking at him.

"Arthur! S' glad you here."

He attempts to wrap his master in a one armed hug and blinks when Arthur seemingly disappears.

"Where'd y' go?"

Blearly he turns around.

"O. There y' are."

"_Mer_lin! What is going on?"

A sudden though occurs to him. He sways over to the table and picks up the bottle there. Taking careful aim he throws it at Arthur's head.

"Y' clotpole."

A/N: Hope you liked this. The balls of light were inspired by Captain Ozone's drunk Merlin scene. I recommend any of Oz's works to anyone who enjoys good writing and well developed characters :) I know it's short. Part 2 will be up tomorrow.


	4. Drunk though not- (pt2)

A/N: Here's part two of _Drunk though not ... Down at the Tavern_.

Arthur dodges the poorly aimed projectile and snags it out of the air. Lifting it to his nose he inhales the fumes and grimaces. Oh. That's what was going on. Or at least part of it. Turning to his inebriated friend he sighs.

"Merlin? Merlin. _Mer_lin!"

The young man slowly focus' on Arthur with too bright eyes.

"Merlin."

He waits for a response.

"Yeah Artie?"

_'Oh, you're going to regret that Merlin.'_ He pushes thoughts of revenge out of his head for the moment. First things first.

"Merlin, do even realize that there's magic in your rooms?"

A slow smile crosses his servant's face."

"Magic? No magic. No magic here. Magic's not here, unavailable. Try 'gain later."

Though these are the clearest words the man has spoken all night they're also the most incomprehensible.

"_Mer_-lin."

"Hate t' dis-point. No magic 'ere."

"Merlin! There is very obviously magic here. There are glowing balls of light floating around your room. Now for the last time. What. Is. Going. On?"

Offering no response, Merlin merely snags another bottle, this one still half full and toasts the frustrated King.

"To the ban on magic! To executions! To the pyre!"

With a sad look at Arthur tears begin running down Merlin's face.

"C'mon Artie. Toast. To the pyre!"

With a sudden hiccup Merlin collapses on the floor. Feet sprawled out in front of him he leans against the leg of the table and sobs.

More gently now, Arthur kneels down next to him.

"Merlin. It's all right. I'm going to yell at you later and give you the biggest list of chores I can manage and I won't feel any sympathy for the hangover you're bound to receive in the morning but right now-, right now understand that everything is all right and I need your help."

With a hiccupping sob the black-haired man turns his head and buries it in Arthur's shoulder.

Awkwardly he pats his friend's back and then, seeing that the door is closed and knowing that, as Gaius is away in another village, no one is likely to walk in without knocking he rubs soothing circles across the shoulders of the distraught Merlin. Slowly the man stops shaking.

"All right Merlin. Now that you're done being a girl, I need to ask you some questions."

"L'right."

"Do you agree that there are balls of light floating around this room?"

He lifts his head up from Arthur's tunic and peers with squinted eyes around the room.

"L'right."

"Do you agree that they are magic?"

"Guess so."

"So there is magic in your chambers. Do-"

"Nope. No magic. I'm not a sorcerer-"

"_Mer_lin! I'm not saying you are! Now pay attention!"

Merlin turns his eyes back to face Arthur. The King winces at the penetrating look his friend is able to give him even through glassy eyes.

"Not a sorcerer?"

Arthur sighs. "No. Not a sorcerer. But there is magic. In this room. And- Oh shit."

From the corner of his eye he spots a flicker of flame. One small green ball is burning merrily and the beam above it is smoldering.

"It's setting the room on fire."

Merlin shakes his head. "Not a problem."

"Not a problem? Merlin, even stone drunk as you are how can you not see that as a problem?"

"Look."

With a wave of his hand the younger man directs his friend's attention to the other balls of light. Whereas before they had been wandering aimlessly, now they are condensing, consolidating at one point, the fire. As the two watch, each light attaches itself to the smoldering beam. When the wood and the flaming ball are completely coated the lights hang there for a moment and then drop off, only to dissipate in the cool air.

Arthur gapes. Where the wood had been slightly charred, now new, rough hewn wood can be easily seen. Even more shocking is the branch extending from the renewed portion. It unfurls new leaves and then Arthur becomes aware of a pressure on his jaw.

He looks down. Merlin is tapping him under the chin.

"Close y' mouth, might ca- flies."

Arthur bites back a retort. Obviously the man is in no condition for verbal sparring.

"Yes Merlin." Putting aside the issue of the mysterious magic for the moment he turns to his friend. "Now lets get you upright."

With difficulty – Merlin is trying to help and doing anything but – Arthur manages to get them both to their feet.

With much pushing and shoving on both parts Merlin is eventually lying haphazardly across Gaius' corner bed .

"Y'know Artie."

"_Yes_ Merlin?"

"Y' can count on me."

"I feel very reassured."

"Mean it. Go anywhere. Do anything for you."

"I know. Now get to sleep. I want you capable of paying attention when I yell at you tomorrow."

"kay."

With an amused sigh Arthur pulls the blanket up over his manservant's body and then makes his way to the door. The last thing that he sees is Merlin's hand, draped over the edge of the bed, conducting to imaginary music.


	5. The morning after

Morning After- (Down at the Tavern)

A/N- 3/6/13 - If you've already read this chapter you don't need to read it again. I was in the process of writing chapter 6 (soon to be posted) when I realized that along with a couple handfuls of grammatical mishaps I'd also suggested several times that Uther is alive and King when if fact he is very much dead. Sorry for the confusion!

A/N: It's official! This fic will be a full, true reveal. It was in writing this chapter that this certainty came to me but I'll leave you readers to determine when exactly Merlin will let his secret slip.

Also, this fic is now officially set about a year after Uther dies, but is AU from that point, 'The Wicked Day' (4x3), on.

You probably also got an alert for chapter 2. The only changes are to a small patch of dialogue to make it more in character. It doesn't change anything later on.

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Arthur wakes up slowly and easily, slipping out of sleep like a familiar jacket no longer needed. That is, until he realizes that he _is_ waking up slowly upon which he immediately stumbles out of bed faster than his manservant _ever_ could get him up.

Speaking of Merlin- Arthur spins around checking every corner of his room. The curtains are open and a plate of food is waiting for his breakfast- has his manservant even been in here yet- but yes, he has. The 'breakfast' waiting for him consists of an apple, some bread, and a hunk of cheese. No one would dare bring that plate up for the _King's_ consumption except Merlin. So why hadn't the man woken him up?

Pulling on a shirt and a pair of trousers - despite what Merlin seems to think, he _can_ dress himself – he grabs the plate and heads out the door. A moment later he reenters to shove on his boots, then spends five minutes teasing out the knots in he'd just made in his laces so that he can slip on a pair socks as well.

Finally dressed and by this time done with breakfast save for the fruit, he checks his schedule and is in equal measures relieved and pleased that the only time sensitive thing on the agenda is a council meeting later that afternoon. Relieved because this means he won't be receiving another subtle scolding from one of his father's councilmen. Pleased because now he has time to track down his errant servant and have a _talk_.

"_Mer_lin!"

Bursting into the room Arthur is shocked and confused to find a bleeding man taking up one of the tables, until it occurs to him that these are not solely his manservant's chambers and Gaius is the Court Physician after all. Cooling down, at least externally, he turns to the injured man in question.

"Have you seen Gaius' assistant around here?"

"No m'lord."

"Did Gaius mention anything about his whereabouts?"

"No m'lord."

His frustration gets the better of him again. "Well do you at least know where _Gaius_ is!"

"He is right here… m'lord. And he would ask that you stop interrogating his patients."

Arthur turns around slowly and winces. Even as a bratty, arrogant child he'd known to avoid the gaze that he was receiving right now.

"Uh… yes… you see Gaius…"

"I believe you'll find Merlin doing his duties for you. He mentioned in passing that you'd left him quite an extensive list-"

"But I haven't seen him all morning! I never gave it to him!"

One graying eyebrow rises as if to get a better glance at the strange specimen of a king standing in front of him. "Merlin _can_ read you know sire."

"Oh." To cover his lapse of memory, both in Merlin's status as literate [the man had written speeches for him before, after all] and in the list he had made last night just to make sure he didn't forget anything, he blusters as he backs out of the room. " Of course he can! What good would he be to me else-wise?"

And with that he's in the corridor and putting all possible distance in between himself and the older healer.

"Where would he be?" He wonders to himself. Was Merlin likely to do his chores in the order written or jump around? Do them easiest to hardest? Vica verca? No. With an amused groan Arthur heads straight for the stables. Merlin would do them in the order that most annoyed his king and friend.

Upon saddling his palfrey (1) he leads the grey horse on foot around the perimeter of the castle walls until he reaches the kennels. With a nod of the head that somehow conveys a full formal bow the kennel-master acknowledges his presence without taking his attention off of the excited young pointer prancing in front of him.

Arthur sighs. Before Merlin had come into his life he would have undoubtedly demanded the man see to him at once, probably setting back the pup's training in the process. Now he simply watches with interest as the man finishes his work for the moment and hands the pup over to an assistant before turning to face his king.

"My Lord."

"Cedric." He nods in reply. "It is good to see that the training you provide is of as high quality as ever."

"Thank you sire. Did you wish something of me?"

"Yes actually. I was wondering if Merlin had taken my personal dogs out for exercise."

"He did Sire, left about half an hour ago."

Arthur sighs. Of course Merlin would exercise the dogs – something that would entail nothing but a good romp and would have been done regardless of Merlin showing up – above anything that Arthur actually looked solely to Merlin to complete. "Do you know where he planned to go Cedric?"

"I believe he was planning on picking some herbs for Gaius as well Sire."

"Thank you."

With that he mounts and rides off towards the side gate he uses not to attract attention to himself. Within minutes he is picking his way through the edges of the woods. With a smirk he pulls out a slim hunting horn. Let Merlin chase the dogs to him for a change rather than Arthur looking all over for the errant servant only for Merlin to turn up where he'd least expect it.

Pulling the apple out of his pocket he is just settling back to wait for the man when two excited greyhounds burst through the brush and begin jumping and gamboling around his feet.

"Down! Down Grays."

They respond immediately, sitting on command, but he can read their reluctance in their eagerly beating tails.

Soon they are joined by a slower pointer, a tracking dog meant to trail rather than chase, and, last of all, an out of breath Merlin tugging at the line of the last of the Prince's personal dogs, a great boarhound too potentially dangerous to be let off line without the utmost care and attention being directed on the creature.

"Ar-thur!"

Arthur smiles to himself as he waits for the other man to catch his breath, and then subtly pulls back his arm and lets the apple fly.

"Oi!" Merlin yelps and immediately winces. "What was that for?" He continues more softly.

"Not getting me up this morning, or have you forgotten your duties _Mer_lin?"

"Ah." Arthur watches in amusement as his friend rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment before raising his eyes to meet Arthur's gaze head on, eyes glinting in merriment.

"Do you not appreciate it when I do as I'm told? You ordered me to leave you sleep in."

"On the rare occasion that you actually do so, yes. As I would appreciate it now if I had in fact given that order which we both know you never would have listened to. Admit it Merlin. You forgot."

"I did not!"

" . . . Merlin. . . "

"I didn't!"

"_Merlin_."

Arthur is now more than amused by his servant's attempts to deny his lapse. For all the grief Arthur gives him concerning his poor service both know that normally Merlin really is on top of things. Making this lapse all the more embarrassing.

"I swear I-"

"Headache occupying your mind overly much?" His tone is light but beneath it is a real concern for the pale man. Merlin really needs to get more sun. Pushing aside this errant thought, Arthur steps forward. "What is it Merlin?"

"What is what Sire?"

Arthur refrains from pointing out how Merlin immediately drops his gaze and looks away. The King sits down and gestures for Merlin to join him. The dogs flop at their feet and one of the Grays sticks his nose in Arthur's palm looking for attention. Smiling, he molds the short course fur under his hand as the dog relaxes.

Arthur doesn't say anything. He knows that he's not the best man for talks involving _feelings_ but he also knows that his friend had been honestly hurting last night and that Merlin is not likely talk to anyone about what had brought it on unless forced.

"Merlin."

"hmm?"

"I am not your king here. I am your friend. "

The servant turns his head away and twists his hands more sharply around the smooth stick between his fingers. "I know."

"Then please tell me what is troubling you."

For a long time the silence is broken only by the panting of wet tonges and a warbler singing off in the distance.

"My father died today. Four years ago."

Arthur is shocked. Of all the things he thought Merlin might confess this had been the farthest from his mind. It had been only a year since his own father had died in a last attempt to protect his son's life.

"How did it happen?"

Merlin is silent but tosses a glance at Arthur through his messy black hair. Arthur is unable to decipher it at first and then realizes that Merlin is surprised. Why? Did he honestly think that Arthur didn't care- Oh. It's funny how it didn't occur to him earlier. Merlin had always said he'd never known his father. So how-?  
"It was bandits. I'd just found out who he was. We'd only had a couple days to get to know each other. He took a blade for me."

Arthur keeps his mouth shut for fear of ruining something but nods his head in response. Merlin takes that as a cue to keep talking as if the words were a river he could not stem.

"He told me he was proud of me. That he could see that I was his son. As he died in my arms his only thought was to help me face K-"

He breaks off and Arthur senses that the missing words are not something that should be pressed for. Instead he asks, "What was he like?"

"He- I hardly knew him!"

Arthur waits.

"He was brave and kind. Even in fear of his life his first thought was to help others. He did not let long reinforced prejudices stand in the way of doing what was right. He was scared. When I first laid eyes on him, I could tell he was scared. Scared of what the future would bring. But in the end he faced it head on, willingly and proudly. He- he would have been a good father."

Arthur nods. "It sounds like he _was_ a good father."

As expected Merlin's head snaps up. "He wasn't there. My entire life- When I- When he could have- But-"

The King lays a hand across the other man's knee. A command.

"Merlin. Trust me when I say this, though I never knew the man. If he was anything like the man you described to me then he was an honorable man; a man who I would have been proud to train under when I was younger; a man who would have done anything for you, who still would."

He breaks off suddenly, uncomfortable with the emotions he had displayed. Yet, he doesn't regret it. If Merlin can open up about something that he had obviously kept secret for years, then it is Arthur's duty, as one who considers the man a close friend, to be there for him and offer him what support he could.

The pointer wanders off at some point and the greyhounds start a game of chase but as the sun rises to its zenith neither man moves from the forest floor. Finally a rumble from Merlin's stomach causes both men to look up from their contemplations.

"Did you eat this morning?"

"I was late getting up. I needed to get your breakfast to you while it was still warm."

"A completely pointless sacrifice on your part then, seeing as you never managed to wake me up for it."

Arthur is teasing and the mood suddenly lightens as Merlin smiles.

"Well I needn't tell you you're a lazy ass in the morning Arthur."

"Idiot."

"Prat."

"_Mer_lin."

With a smirk and a glance Merlin is on his feet and whistling. "What Sire?"

"Watch your tongue or I'll have you in the stocks for insolence."

"Will you?" Merlin's tone is doubtful and suddenly full of mischief.

"_Mer_lin. Whatever you're planning you will regret it."

"Only if you can catch me, Sire."

And with that the wiry man is off and running. The boarhound, who'd stood at Merlin's whistle, is charging ahead eager for the chance to stretch its legs.

Arthur looks after him in disbelief for a moment and simply watches in amusement as his manservant disappears into the distance. Then he swings up onto his horse.

In a second Arthur is pounding after him, the other dogs at his side or surging ahead past the lot of them in the case of the grays. When they arrive back at Camelot, Arthur considerably ahead of the other man, but out of breath and laughing all the same. As Merlin dashes into the courtyard and reaches to take the palfrey's reins Arthur gives a silent nod of approval at the sight of his manservant's grinning, carefree face. He would talk to him about the possibility of another goblin on the loose, or fairies in the castle, or whatever those lights had been after the council meeting. For now it is enough to know that Merlin looks more at peace than he had been all day and last night. Turning away Arthur hopes that this will be the last time his friend turns to the bottle over his friends when seeking solace.

It isn't until he is sitting through a report on grain blight along the northern border that he remembers where he, and not inconsequentially Merlin, had been four years ago and thinks to wonder just who Merlin's father actually is.

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So what do you think? Everyone in character? Writing a concerned Arthur who isn't just snarky while keeping him true to the show is something I really struggled with this chapter.

1) A palfrey is a high quality riding horse, but is not generally (nor ever now a days) meant for combat being lighter of frame and easier of movement than a warhorse.


	6. Mistaken purposes- (pt1)

Mistaken Purposes (pt 1)

A/N: sorry for the wait! The good news is that this chapter is part one of three so you won't have to wait at all to get the chapters 7 and 8. Also, this is the last tavern escapade I have planned out so if there's any more hijinks that you want to hear about let me know before I post chapter 8. After that, if I receive no objections, Arthur's perception of Merlin as a Tavern-junkie to rival Gwaine will be shattered and things will get a bit more serious (not too serious though!).

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Arthur has to admit he should have seen this coming. Not that Merlin isn't a great servant- ok he's a horrible servant, but damn it, he's Arthur's _friend_ and there's no one else he rather have at his side. So, ok maybe Merlin isn't the best servant, but he's not a knight, Arthur can't see him taking over as Court Physician and he can just imagine what kind of conniptions he'd give his council if he told them to make room for the overconfident idiot. He'd probably have to replace the lot of them five minutes after the announcement was made as they all fell over from heart failure or some such thing.

Yes replacing his father's council with fresher blood while not offending anybody was proving to be a long, arduous process and it would probably be years before he was rid of their influence and mindless preaching. In the mean time he really should have known that _something_ was going to go wrong and seeing as King Pellinore was a jolly old fellow more acquainted with the pint and a story than with political intrigue – or any kind of political sensibility honestly – Arthur should have been expecting Merlin to provide the trouble.

But still, can he not depend on Merlin to be there for once? Whenever Arthur is riding off on some likely-to-die-a-horrible-death quest and would rather his friend not come the man is right there and riding out with him. So why, if Merlin is determined to dog his every step, why can't he be there during politically important meetings with foreign kings. Nevermind that Pellinore hadn't noticed the difference nor would he have likely cared if he had noticed. It's the principle of the thing!

Now – after an incredibly long feast with long speeches that were longer and more sleep inducing than they had any right to be – Arthur blames Merlin for this – the King is finally free to track down his manservant and give him what's coming to him. He's pondering the relative values of the dungeons verses the stocks and has just decided on lending Merlin to one of the visiting dignitaries' when he finally arrives at his destination: The Rising Sun Inn and Tavern.


	7. Mistaken purposes- (pt2)

Mistaken Purposes (pt. 2)

A/N: Here's a big thank you to everyone leaving feedback! I'd like it if I was the greatest writer of all time but I know I'm not even close. Any advice or comments on what I'm doing well and what I need to work on are more than welcome!

Really, honestly, one hundred percent truthfully, Gwaine cannot count the number of times he's been sent down to the tavern to collect Merlin for Arthur. And how many of those times has Merlin actually been there? Not once. So one could accurately say that Gwaine is staggered, truly astounded to look up from his table to call for another pint, only his second mind you, and catch sight of Merlin of all people exiting the entrance to the stairs with one of the bustier barmaids, a kind woman handy with a pint and handier in other areas.

But. . .Merlin? Gwaine just can't see it. There must be another explanation. Although, it's true he hadn't seen Merlin at the feast so maybe…? Nah. Merlin just wouldn't do things like that – even if he did have a lady.

Gwaine smirks and sits back as the two exchange a few words and the woman gives his friend a hug before stepping back.

In that moment everyone facing the door falls quiet and the rest of the patrons soon follow. Gwaine's gaze drifts from Merlin at the back of the room to the doorway where the King of Camelot is framed in the dying light of evening.

Oh dear.

The first thing that crosses Gwaine's mind is laughter, the second irritation, and both stemming from the same source. How does it happen that every single bloody time that Gwaine is sent to retrieve Merlin from the tavern, Merlin isn't there. Yet, let _Arthur_ bestir himself to come down and take a look himself and lo and behold! There's Merlin. And in the embrace of busty barmaid no less.

Laughter wins out and the knight's hearty guffaw breaks the silence. Like the first shoot of water over a dam the rest of the room follows suit and soon the bustle and chatter of a hard working people after a long day is returned to the cozy common only slightly more subdued than normal.

Gwaine watches as the barmaid silently disappears into the kitchens and Merlin squares his shoulders with a hearty sigh. Oh dear, indeed.


	8. Mistaken purposes- (pt3)

Mistaken Purposes (pt. 3)

For once Merlin is actually sorry to miss the feast. King Pellinore is renown for his joviality and entertainment. Some of the other servants are actually fighting over who would be allowed to attend to the tables that night. Merlin would have been allowed to talk – read gossip – with the other servants instead of remaining silent as expected. He would have been able to watch the festivities and listen to Pellinore's Bard who is famous for his skill. It would have been fun.

So really, Merlin wishes it would have been possible for him to attend… but duty calls, and in this case his duty had taken the form of a young girl, no older than thirteen, who had managed to get into some sort of trouble regarding magic.

Now understand that while the nobles – and prats – of the castle may have been blind, Merlin hadn't had so much luck with the serving population of Camelot. It isn't talked about, never directly mentioned, but people know. Merlin knows they know and they know that he knows that they know. Most approve of the young mage, or are at least willing to keep quite and reserve judgement, considering the unseen protection he provides their king and kingdom. For those less willing - well charges of sorcery complete with witnesses aren't exactly hard to fabricate. Merlin has plenty of protection from would be snitches. All of this means that when a young girl in the lower town starts levitating household items in her sleep it is really only a mater of time before a concerned relation in the castle contacts Merlin and surreptitiously informs him of the matter.

Cue the warlock leaving someone else, probably George, to take his place at the feast while Merlin sneaks out to the Lower Town for some impromptu magic lessons. The girl hadn't even realized what she was doing or how. According to her mother, a barmaid at the Rising Sun, her magic mostly just knocks things over, not true levitation, but she was afraid that people would notice and her daughter needs to get back to her work at a local shopkeeper's. They need the income. It takes several hours to guide her through creating mental walls that kept the magic in the air and earth surrounding her from using her body as conduit.

Unlike Merlin, she is a true sorceress, only capable of using magic; manipulating and directing it. Really, Merlin thinks, the surprising factor in all of this is that the magic found her so willing a conduit in the first place. Unlike the warlock who can't help his magic, if she'd been truly opposed to the idea the magic wouldn't have seeped through her at all. Her mind wouldn't have let it. It gives Merlin hope.

Towards evening he leaves the girl sleeping and makes his way down from the room she shares with her mother above tavern. Her mother is overjoyed that Merlin had been able to help – though he carefully hides all signs of him being capable of doing magic saying only that he'd read some books on the subject – which is true.

She envelops him in a tight hug as they part in the Rising Sun commons and that is where everything goes downhill … again.

As she lets him go the entire tavern falls silent. Immediately alert for danger Merlin cases the room for threats and finds only a personal one, standing outlined in the entrance to the tavern proper. Arthur.

His companion quickly leaves the scene under his encouragement and Merlin turns to face his friend and king with a sigh and a false cheery smile.

"Arthur, fancy seeing you here! Feast get out early?"

His cheer only seems to further irritate the irate King.

"Hello Merlin. Fancy meeting you here indeed. I thought you'd be deathly ill or kidnapped by Morgana or that the ambassador from Mercia wanted a quiet meal in his rooms or something important!"

Merlin gives a half shrug. "Someone _was_ sick. Gaius was needed more at the feast than I was so…"

Arthur frowns not willing to let it go just yet. "And it took you three hours to attend to this person? Or did you decide that since you were in the area you might as well ignore your duties and visit your second home?"

"It's not-! And anyway it did take three hours. It's not a very common illness around these parts-" No kidding he thinks privately "- and I had to do some research to find the cure and figure out how to prepare it. I'm sorry that _My Lord_ was so inconvenienced by my absence, but I would have thought that he'd be grateful to be served by someone _competent_ for once."

With that, Arthur lets most of his anger slide away. Maybe Merlin had knocked back a few pints, maybe not, but the man does deserve some slack now and again. After all, no one else put's up with Arthur's rather prattish ingrained habits and the truth of the matter is that he can't stand so called 'servant competence' and…. But anyways, maybe he _could_ give Merlin some slack now and again.

"I'm letting it go this once on my pardon but-"

"Oh! The King's Pardon! I feel so-"

"-that doesn't change the fact that if I catch you one more time in the arms of some… barmaid you'll be out of a job."

"For how long before you come asking me back?"

Arthur glares at his friend's cheeky grin and oh-too-close-to-the-truth retort. "At least a week."

Merlin lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Well I suppose I'd better behave then. We both know you wouldn't last a week without me."

With that he winks at Gwaine, who'd been watching the whole affair with a keen eye and leaves Arthur standing there silently, indignantly mouthing, "I can _to_ last a week without a servant!"

Merlin's laugh carries back across the room from the open door, "I never said anything about a servant. I said you couldn't last a week without me!"

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**A/N: So what do you think? Good? Bad? ... Ugly? Please let me know!**

**Also this is your last chance to suggest any more tavern or alcohol related escapades that you want to see. I'm pretty much ready to post the chapter where Arthur finds out that Merlin does not in fact spend most of his time in the tavern and after that things will get a bit more serious.**


	9. Interlude

A/N: I'm working on smoothing out the next phase - remember that it's less episodic and more serious from now on although I will be incorporating a bet with Gwaine and Gilli into the upcoming chapters - and have recently realized two things. First: you all are probably tired of waiting for another chapter. Second: The original one-shot that started all this no longer fits with the running plot and is undergoing major surgery as you read this. Conclusion: I'll post that original one-shot as on it's own. It's published under the title of "I Don't Suppose You Would Believe".

And don't worry. The actual chapter 9 will be here soon!

God Bless,

Auua


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